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The morning sun bathed Korinth in gold. For the first time in years, the city truly felt alive. Laughter echoed from the marketplace, merchants shouted out their wares, and children darted freely through the streets without fear of Monger's thugs. The scars of tyranny were still there, but hope now grew where despair had once lingered.
Down one of those cobbled streets, five figures walked together toward the docks — Atlas at the lead, Alexios and Lukas side by side behind him, Dorian with Anthousa at his side.
Dorian broke the silence, worry written across his face.
"Brother Atlas," he said at last, "are you certain you don't want me to come with you to Kephallonia? I'm no child. I can fight beside you, like the old days."
Atlas slowed his pace and turned to him, firm but not unkind. "You don't need to come, Dorian. We're not children anymore. And besides…" He lifted his hand, gesturing to the city around them. "Look. Do you see it? The people are smiling again. The markets are alive. For the first time in years, Korinth breathes free. They need you here. Anthousa needs you here."
Anthousa's fingers tightened around Dorian's hand. Her eyes, bright with both pride and fear, silently begged him to stay.
Alexios threw an arm lazily around Dorian's shoulder with a grin. "Besides, you don't have to worry about us. I'm going with them. Any fight we face, I'll be the first to charge ahead!"
Lukas rolled his eyes. "First to charge, first to get yourself knocked out. Don't forget who has to drag your body out afterward."
"Lies," Alexios retorted with mock offense. "I'm fighting gracefully. Like an Lion!"
"More like a drunken goat," Lukas shot back, smirking.
The two nearly started shoving each other until Atlas stepped between them with a sigh. "Don't worry, Dorian. They may be reckless, loud, and very lacking in some areas…" He gave Alexios a meaningful glance. "…but I'll keep watch. Always."
Dorian finally chuckled, reassured. "You haven't changed, Atlas. Always the one keeping us steady."
As they neared the harbor, Anthousa suddenly spoke up, her voice quiet but cutting through their laughter.
"There's something you should hear. About Myrrine."
Alexios stopped walking, his grin vanishing. "Mother? You know something?"
Anthousa nodded. "Last night, I sent letters to friends I trust. This morning, I received a reply. They say your mother sailed with the banner of Xenia — the so-called 'Queen of Pirates.'"
Alexios blinked, confused. "Pirates? She became… a pirate?"
Anthousa shook her head gently. "Not like the butchers who roam the seas. Xenia forbids slavery. She takes commissions — escorts, deliveries, sometimes dangerous errands. She kills only those who attack her ships. Your mother joined her, but only briefly. After some time, she left again — to somewhere none could say."
Alexios's fists clenched, but his eyes shone with sudden fire. "So she lives. She lives… and she's strong."
Atlas gave a small, approving nod. "Then we follow that lead when the time comes."
Anthousa leaned closer to Alexios, her voice soft. "If you sail near the Pirate Islands, find Xenia. Tell her Anthousa sent you. She won't trouble you."
Alexios grinned, almost like a child. "Then we're close. So close…" His excitement made his whole body restless, as if he might sprint to the harbor himself.
Lukas chuckled. "If you wag your tail any harder, Alexios, you'll knock over a merchant stand."
The harbor was alive with noise — sailors hauling ropes, gulls crying overhead, fishermen haggling over their morning catch. Ships of all sizes lined the docks: trading vessels, warships, fishing boats. But the vessel waiting for them was a weathered galley, its sails patched but sturdy, its hull scarred by time and storms.
Alexios tilted his head, unimpressed. "That's it? That ship looks… ordinary. Are you sure it can survive the open seas?"
Dorian was helpless. He had seen The Skylark — Atlas's creation, sleek and deadly, the pride of the camp. Compared to that, this vessel looked humble indeed.
Before he could speak, a booming laugh cut through the noise.
"Hah! Ordinary, maybe. But this ship has seen more battles than you've had dinners, boy!"
The voice belonged to a grizzled man with a broad grin, one eye clouded white with blindness, his cloak smelling of salt and tar. His presence was larger than life.
Atlas's eyes narrowed slightly. The name surfaced in his mind — Barnabas. Another thread of fate, In the Game AC Odyssey, Barnabas would become Kassandra's closest companion.
Dorian smiled, stepping forward. "This is Barnabas. Once a soldier, now a captain-for-hire. He knows the seas better than anyone I've met."
Barnabas clapped a hand against his chest, laughing. "You're the young bloods sailing to Kephallonia? Then you'll find no sturdier ship than mine. Ordinary? Maybe. But she's a survivor. Like me!"
Atlas stepped forward, extending his hand. "A pleasure, Barnabas. Forgive my friend's rudeness. We're honored to sail with you."
Barnabas clasped his hand with surprising strength. "Good grip. I like you already. Come aboard when ready — the sea waits for no man!"
The weight of parting fell as the five stopped at the gangplank. The sails above them billowed faintly in the sea breeze, ready to catch the wind.
Atlas turned to Dorian, his voice low but warm. "Send letters to the camp. Or better yet, visit when you can. Bring Anthousa with you. They're family too."
Dorian's smile trembled, but his eyes burned with pride. "I will, brother. You have my word."
Anthousa stepped toward Alexios and, without hesitation, wrapped her arms around him. He froze, startled.
"Find her," she whispered. "Find your mother. She is stronger than you know."
Alexios swallowed hard, his chest tight. Then he managed a crooked grin. "I'll bring her back. And I'll tell her Korinth stood strong again."
Lukas lifted a hand in farewell, his grin wide. "Don't drink all the wine while we're gone, Dorian. Leave some for us when we return."
"Only if you return quickly," Dorian shot back with a laugh, though his voice cracked.
Barnabas barked an order, and sailors began hauling lines. The ship creaked, ready to leave.
Atlas clasped Dorian's hand one last time. "Take care of them. All of them."
Dorian nodded, gripping tight. "And you — take care of yourself, brother."
The three climbed aboard. The ropes were cast, the oars dipped into the sea, and the vessel began to glide out from the dock.
Dorian and Anthousa stood on the pier, hands clasped tightly, watching as the ship drifted farther from shore.
Atlas stood at the stern, his cloak snapping in the wind. He raised a hand in farewell.
From the docks, Dorian raised his own, shouting over the waves.
"May the gods guide you, brothers!"
And as Korinth shrank behind them, only the endless horizon of Kephallonia lay ahead.
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